Published on January 31, 2020.
This article discusses Sakurai Yoshiko’s column in Shukan Shincho, focusing on the courage of those who remained at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, the false reporting by the Asahi Shimbun, the response of the Kan Naoto administration, and the importance of preserving the spirit and record of the Japanese people during the nuclear accident.

2020-01-31
Yet the Asahi Shimbun accused them of “fleeing in violation of orders.”
It is well known that this accusation was completely false.
But even worse was Prime Minister Kan.
The following is from Sakurai Yoshiko’s serial column, published in Shukan Shincho, which went on sale yesterday, under the title “Let Us All Watch the Film Fukushima 50.”
This essay, too, proves that she is a national treasure as defined by Saicho.
Over the weekend, the world premiere of the film Fukushima 50, which depicts the Fukushima nuclear accident, was held at the Tokyo International Forum in Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo.
The film portrays how those on the scene fought to protect the Tokyo Electric Power Company’s Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, known as “Ichi-F,” after it was struck by a magnitude 9 earthquake said to occur once in a thousand years, followed by a massive tsunami.
It is a record of the battle in which elite employees from TEPCO headquarters and locally hired staff united their hearts, fulfilled their mission to protect the nuclear plant, and risked their lives to protect their hometowns and Japan.
Many members of the media crowded into the spacious venue, and the seats were full after applications had reached a ratio of 200 to 1.
Before the screening, violinist Goto Ryu and others performed the theme music with a full orchestra.
I sensed the depth of feeling of Kadokawa Tsuguhiko, the driving force behind the film’s production, in inviting the world-renowned Goto.
The original author, Kadota Ryusho, muttered quietly:
“This has become something tremendous…”
In On the Brink of Death: Yoshida Masao and the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, published by Kadokawa Bunko, Kadota faithfully recreated the thoughts and actions of the men and women of Ichi-F and their families.
A gigantic nuclear power plant was about to break through the bounds of human control and run out of control.
To stop that runaway, the people on the scene became one.
At the ultimate moment, both Yoshida Masao, the plant manager of Ichi-F, and Izaki Toshio, the head of the central control room, thought of the faces of those who would die together with them.
They proudly chose to sacrifice themselves for others, and they acted exactly that way.
That is precisely why the world paid respect to the fifty people who remained on the scene until the very end, calling them the “Fukushima Fifty.”
What Kadota depicted was that spirit of the Japanese people.
After Goto’s performance and greetings from actors including the lead actors Sato Koichi and Watanabe Ken, when the film began, an unexpected physical reaction occurred within me.
It happened when the earthquake scene suddenly appeared at the very beginning.
My body moved physically.
My chest felt tight.
Before I knew it, I had clenched my fist tightly.
It is true that I felt a tremendous shaking in Tokyo at that time, but it must have been nothing like the shock experienced by those in Fukushima, Miyagi, Iwate, and places close to the epicenter.
And yet I had this physical reaction.
If so, how would the people in the affected areas receive this film?
“Sincere and Noble Japanese People”
Nishimoto Yumiko of Hirono Town, Fukushima Prefecture, with whom I have continued to interact ever since March 11, spoke.
She was forced to evacuate with nothing but herself, but later returned home earlier than most and worked to rebuild her hometown.
“This year marks the tenth year since the earthquake disaster, but even now, when the afternoon of March 11 arrives, I return to March 11, 2011.
A 100-inch television fell over, small plates flew about, and when I hurried outside, roof tiles from the neighboring house came flying.
Sand was whipped up by the strong wind, and a gray storm was raging.
All I could do was crawl flat on the ground.
That scene comes back to me.
That is why, ever since then, on March 11 I have always stayed at home and gone nowhere.
I am still too afraid to watch this film.”
Even so, Nishimoto hopes the film will faithfully show the facts.
“What each individual knows and has experienced is limited.
I hope this work will bring together those experiences, testimonies, and thoughts, and leave a record of what we did, including both the good and the bad.”
When one stands from that perspective, even now the “sins” of the Democratic Party administration at the time, Prime Minister Kan Naoto, Chief Cabinet Secretary Edano Yukio, and others stand out.
On the other hand, Kadota says:
“The film was made apart from positions for or against nuclear power and apart from political positions.
What I truly want people to know is how sincere and noble the people on the scene were as Japanese.
It was because of their love for their families, their love for their hometowns, and their sense of mission and pride in their work.
How did the locally hired, so to speak nameless people, together with the plant manager from TEPCO headquarters, so bravely fulfill their responsibility?
Without knowing that, no one is allowed to speak about this accident.”
The world praised the Fukushima Fifty, who fought bravely, as heroes.
Yet the Asahi Shimbun accused them of “fleeing in violation of orders.”
It is well known that this accusation was completely false.
But even worse was Prime Minister Kan.
In the film, Sano Shiro played the role of the prime minister, a foolish man who, amid an unprecedented crisis, showed no consideration at all for the circumstances on the scene, overestimated his own abilities, and thrust one impossible demand after another upon them.
How crucial was the timing of his inspection of the site to the control of the nuclear plant?
The events before and after it are depicted with precision down to the hour and minute, and this will remain forever as a record, and as a memory in people’s hearts.
The Tenth Year Since the Great Earthquake Disaster
Kadota and the others were careful not to make the film focus on support for or opposition to nuclear power, or on criticism of politics, but the facts themselves eloquently speak of the sins of Kan and Edano as well.
Nishimoto emphasized:
“What I truly feel as a resident of Fukushima Prefecture is how much the policies of Mr. Kan, Mr. Edano, and the others have kept our lives adrift even now.
The Democratic Party administration consisted of people who understood neither nuclear power, nor how to respond to the accident, nor reconstruction measures afterward.
If that was the case, they had to learn.
And yet, they did not even learn.”
Nishimoto’s severe criticism is directed also at the Liberal Democratic Party.
That is because, as part of cleaning up after the Democratic Party administration, the Liberal Democratic Party is in a position where it should clearly explain and present a policy on what it wants to do with Japan’s nuclear power policy from now on, and yet it has not done so.
The preview screenings of Fukushima 50 began in Fukushima.
Many local people watched it.
The Fukushima Minyu reporter who appears in the film is now a prefectural assembly member.
Nishimoto spoke with the former reporter who had become a prefectural assembly member, with his family, and with friends who had gone to the preview venue.
“Everyone said it.
As far as they knew, the facts were accurate.”
Nishimoto hopes that this year, as the tenth year since the Great East Japan Earthquake begins, she will become a little stronger.
Until now, she has shut herself up at home on March 11, but from this year onward she wants to be able to live normally on the afternoon of that day.
And at last, she felt ready to go and see the film.
I cried as I watched the film.
The man to my left was crying, and the man to my right was crying too.
That was because we had been allowed to touch the spirit of noble Japanese people.
The Fukushima Fifty did not flee, as the Asahi said.
They were not trying to flee, as Mr. Kan scolded them.
They were people who fought nobly.
This film exists so that the world may understand that.
Kadokawa said happily:
“Screenings have been decided in 73 countries around the world.”
I want many people throughout the world to see it.
Before that, it was a film I wanted many Japanese people to see.
One more thing may be added: it would also be good to read the original book, On the Brink of Death.